


The stars can sing ( but can you listen)

by hala_macaron



Category: Monster Hunter International Series - Larry Correia
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 11:03:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20865158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hala_macaron/pseuds/hala_macaron
Summary: Heaven fought and blood was spilled. Angels won, died, or fell. But what does it matter? The world will die and the gods pick children to fight for them. He’d love to tear them a new one.My very dear friend sent me a picture with writing prompts for October, so here I am!Day 1: Angels





	The stars can sing ( but can you listen)

**Author's Note:**

> I have absolutely no idea whether Mr Correia is actually going in this direction or not, but I have unanswered questions and a lot of feelings. Enjoy

He remembered the war. 

No. No, remembering would be too strong of a word. He was _aware _of the war, of the memories locked away in some dark corner of his brain. He knew that there had been a war, but thinking with a brain made out of flesh made remembering things quite hard. 

It was not like he wanted to remember. The war had been one of the worst things he had lived through, falling being a close second. He had never dwelled on it before, not in the 400 years that he’d been on Earth. He didn’t care for it anymore and thinking about it - or any aspect of his life before…_hell_\- hurt. 

It didn’t hurt quite as much as when he thought of Dwayne though. Dwayne Myers, who’d died defending his world from a threat he knew nothing about, without any support of the government he served. The man who he had trusted more than anyone else, who had found out about him and kept quiet simply because they were friends. 

**Because he loved you. Because you were family to him. Pathetic. **

Franks growled quietly at the presence clinging to his back, whispering in a scratchy voice. A demon, probably sent by Kurst. _Kurst…_. If Franks ever got his hands on that asshole again he would not kill him. He’d do so much worse. Kurst had taken his best friend and his son from him. Franks would rather spend all of eternity in hell than every let him do that again. 

**Ahahahahahahahahahaha, you think you can protect them?! They are humans. Stupid little things, weak and frail, nothing more than ants. We killed HIS loyal little soldiers. YOU’VE DONE SO TOO. And now you’re a beaten dog begging to be taken back. Disgusting. **

‘ I don’t want to be taken back. Heaven can rot for all I care,’ he thought, abandoning it as soon as it crossed his mind, lest the clawed menace would latch on. 

He’d played a significant part in the war that had raged in heaven. He had killed his own siblings with his bare hands, swinging energy and ending their existence permanently. Hell he had fought Michael! 

Ultimately he had lost, just like everybody else who then resides in a dreadful place that the humans - they had never seen it, even if they claimed otherwise- called hell. But that was the past. Heaven had fought, blood had been spilled. Angels had killed, won and lost. And angels had fallen. Like he had. 

Unlike his siblings, he had seen the error in his ways. He had begged on his knees once, to be taken back. The creator didn’t have any love to spare for hopeless cases, however. And that was what he was, wasn’t he? The contract existed because he had seen the beauty of this world and had wanted to protect it. But he was still stripped of his name, title, grace, rank and wings. Losing all of that had hurt, but he didn’t care much for that pain now. 

The loss of all those things was an old wound, bleeding occasionally but not too badly. What bled was the loss of Dwayne, of Tom, and the fear of losing Cueto, Jefferson and Archer. Panic had taken root inside his very core, worming its way throughout his body, twisting around his insides and gripping his heart in an uncomfortable embrace.

Franks didn’t like to think that he was in possession of emotions such as those. He was content with being unable to love, to feel, to care. Except all of that was a bold faced lie. He did feel, he did care and, unfortunately, he could love. 

He had loved Dwayne, would have taken bullets for him, because the man with the horrible taste in ringtones had been his best friend, his family. He loved his team, the chaotic trio that was currently trying to figure out which ice cream would taste best when combined with whisky. He even loved MHI, and he would deny that until the last of his days. MHI was chaotic, unprofessional at the best of times, and driven by emotions rather than logic. 

And that had been part of the creator’s big plan, hadn’t it? Relationships of all kinds, love in different places, beauty all around the world. Something worth protecting, worth defending, something worth dying for. And now? 

Now the gods were choosing champions to fight their war. Champions to determine the fate of their world and of every world after this one. Bloody hell, compared to Franks, who was as old as the stars, they were fucking _children. _Fledglings. Baby birds. And they wanted them to fight the battles that would leave their most treasured things and people lying in a heap beneath a throne of bones, blood dripping and screams filling days with eternal dread and despair? 

**It’s their destiny to die. They were never important, never more than toys. **

“ They are not toys,” he whispered, careful not to disturb any of the hunters lounging about together, cracking jokes. Owen and his little brother were gearing up to dunk Grant into a bucket full of sticky soda. Franks’s lips twitched. Grant would scream for three hours straight. 

“ They are important. They’re the plan, the ones we were supposed to love more than anyone. I don’t care anymore. Not for the plan, not for Heaven, not for Hell. I care about them, that they survive. I care for the fact that this world survives. Now go back,” he sneered, a cold grin breaking out on his face, carefully hidden from his companions. “ Tell them who I am, tell them what I said. I don’t care for those who hear.” 

“ These are my people. They are under my protection. If you hurt them, I will not bring Hell, I will not bring Heaven. I will rain down the whole bloody universe upon you. So let them hear,” the presence left a bit more with each word, anxiety radiating of off it. “ Let them hear what the Light bringer has to say.”


End file.
